


Flowey and the Harmonica

by ImpulseFunWritinAnon



Series: Imp's Undertale Drabbles [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Night time tunes, Papyrus being cute, Playing an instrument, Tsundere Flowey (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26916082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpulseFunWritinAnon/pseuds/ImpulseFunWritinAnon
Summary: Papyrus gifts Flowey a harmonica, which Flowey pretends to hate but learns to play anyway.
Relationships: Flowey & Papyrus (Undertale)
Series: Imp's Undertale Drabbles [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962637
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Flowey and the Harmonica

**Author's Note:**

> Writing prompt courtesy of anonymous user - thanks for the inspiration /utg/!

"HERE YOU ARE, MY LITTLE FLOWER FRIEND!"

"For the last time, you idiot: I'm—not—your—FRIEND!"

Papyrus, lacking awareness or seeming to ignore the brooding, sneering flower, continued to talk as if he hadn't a word. "IT'S A HARMONICA, FLOWEY! WATCH THE GREAT PAPYRUS EXPERTLY PLAY—IT IS A PRIVILEGE I GRANT YOU!" And promptly, the skeleton started blowing into the instrument—not very expertly.

"Stop this nonsense at once! The sound is grating!" And shrill. And unbelievably loud.

"NONSENSE, MY FRIEND! HOW CAN MY DULCET TONES IMPACT YOUR HEARING IF YOU HAVE NO EARS TO REALLY HEAR WITH?"

"That's just it, friend of mine—I do have ears, I have been listening to you prattle away about nothing, and my ears can hurt just as much as yours, you piece of sh—"

"flowey," a voice called from downstairs, "do we need to have another talk?"

Flowey sighed petulantly. "No, Sans."

"good. hey papyrus," called Sans, "make sure that our guest gets water—you know how cranky our little daisy can get."

Humiliated and fuming, Flowey could hear— see the short skeleton winking in his mind's eye. "THAT I CAN DO, BROTHER OF MINE!" called back the lanky and younger of the two brothers. God, they are both so annoying and— "SHOULD I DOUSE HIM WITH THE WATER PAIL?"

"no," replied Sans, "the hose."

I want to fucking die.

\--

Later that night, as Papyrus slept, Flowey lay restlessly within the pitiful amount of potted soil supplied to him at the last minute. Sure, he lost his fight with Sans and got permanent confinement with that idiot younger brother of his, but did he really need to suffer this degrading existence as Papyrus's bedside decorative flower? No, Flowey decided, grumbling to himself choice curse words that he would love to throw at them. No, indeed he didn't.

The harmonica lay on the bedside table, unused. Flowey hummed, hatching a devious plan. Well, if I can't sleep, none of the stupid skeletons will either! That'll show them!

\--

After much huffing and blowing, Flowey soon found himself exhausted and over-tired, disappointed to bits because one; Papyrus and Sans are rather heavy sleepers, and two; playing the harmonica proved to be harder than Papyrus made it look—his delicate flower body didn't have the stamina that he needed to play properly.

I'm going to practice, damn it, and be leagues better than that attention-starved skeleton! Yes, they will rue the day that they decided to plant me into this pot! Especially that insufferably smug smiley trashbag—no, he won't be smiling anymore after I master this! He will get not a wink of sleep!

With that, Flowey started breathing exercises. Day by day, he regulated his breathing, practicing various types of them, circular and all. Then he played silently night after night, Papyrus muttering something about a bandmate playing too badly in his sleep and all sorts of things about puzzles and japes.

Finally, after months of hard work, Flowey did it: he played the harmonica with smooth precision, as he had nothing to do. Sleep is for the dead and after all—an elusive thing to him; a vessel with no SOUL. But no one would be the wiser once they hear him play.

Unknown to Flowey, Sans grinned with satisfaction, sleep being as elusive of a monster as Flowey found it in the evenings—catching some winks during the day made up for his insomnia. So he lay back on his pillow, right leg up above his left knee, and read some more about theoretical physics as Sans enjoyed Flowey's private harmonica concerto.

This arrangement turned out for the best after all, Sans thought as he drifted to sleep.


End file.
